Sometimes the hips of our bodies do not agree.
To each end of the bed we turn to face our
hormones, that rise and fall, fall and rise,
to our hopes and failures we encounter in
dreams and visions. The early mornings arrive
in time to salvage us from the night of silence
when memories and thoughts of the past
become moist with passing dew.
Sometimes we are blinded by the looming sun
as it rises with the intent to fade away our
unfulfilled glories. Our minds wake up to the call
while our feet crawl with loss tagged to our past
On our necks, the glassy colourful necklaces from
Odumase Krobo decorates our future.
Sometimes the day runs rapidly into the night
And sets the tone for breaking hearts
We are all too soon taken aback by this daylight
magic, that hides under the skin of the night
Then there is the outpouring of the disconsolate news
That snags the glee of the heart:
When the woman to the other side of the bed
breaks the silence with a knock on
his functionless manhood.